Kris and Stanwick
by Jennalyn the Mystic
Summary: Short little pieces in which Stanwick couldn't resist Kris if he tried...and really, he doesn't try very hard. Nonexplicit man fluff.
1. A Little Break

**Note**: This is just me fangirling a pair of characters from a friend's unpublished book/concept. They end up so unhappy in the text that I had to show what would happen if their lives hadn't turned to shit. They're really rather cute. Stanwick/Kris copyright Nathalia Blackburn.

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Kris watched his companion silently, dark gaze speculative. The late morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of the library, casting a faint glow across the books and papers strewn about. He cared little for them, his interest firmly centered on the quiet man sitting off to one side of the room, stooped over a desk and ostensibly oblivious. 

The object of his attention was fiddling around with some financial statements, trying his best to be productive and ignore the devilishly handsome man sitting not a dozen feet away. He wasn't doing a very good job of it, his curious gray eyes glancing up every now and then to see if he was being watched. Every time they did, his look was met with a deliberately predatory stare. Every time, he quickly turned his eyes back to his papers with a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

Unwilling to wait any longer for his unvoiced question to be answered, the assassin rose noiselessly and stalked closer to the man until he was directly behind the uncomfortable wooden chair. He bent closer still until his mouth was only inches away from the sandy brown head, smirk firmly in place.

"Stanwick," he purred softly, warm breath disturbing the neatly brushed hair.

The accountant startled, pen dropping from nerveless fingers as he tried not to jerk his head around in surprise. "Kris?" he stammered, eyes flicking over to where the dark man had been only moments before. It was empty, of course, and he could feel a shiver go down his spine as the voice spoke again from behind him.

"It would be nice to take a little break from all of this, no?" Kris murmured, reaching out to stroke the pad of his thumb down his lover's neck. The man trembled again and angled his head down for more of the gentle caress, which was obligingly continued. "After all, it seems a shame to waste such a glorious morning on papers. Why not come with me to the bedroom? It is a much more agreeable place to be, I promise you."

Stanwick was going to refuse the suggestion, he really was. A lot of work needed doing that he shouldn't put off until the last minute and now was the most convenient time to do it. He'd been dragged off and sidetracked on this particular project more times than he could count already. It was time to just turn around and say…

He felt the shift behind him as a warm mouth moved near, kissing a spot behind his ear that made his toes curl. Kris lazily tongued at the skin, pulling him closer until he whimpered his assent. He felt the lips curl into a smile before the human drew back, holding out his hand in unspoken invitation.


	2. Morning

Stanwick sat at the kitchen table, feet tucked beneath his chair and the morning paper spread out in front of him. He reached absently for the yellow mug near the side of the counter, filled with something that passed as an inconceivably sweet cup of coffee, and took a small sip as he read the news. The headlines were only of passing interest and the articles themselves weren't much better. It was all fairly typical for a Thursday.

In the same way, he was wearing his characteristic suit and tucked-in tie, complete with a clip to hold it in place. Coworkers might laugh at him behind his back for his predictability, but their comments couldn't outweigh the comforting sense of familiarity that the clothes offered. His hair was neatly brushed back, its sandy disarray tamed only through a liberal application of hair gel. He knew that his damnable bangs would flop down in front of his face after a few hours like they always did, but for now they were submissive to his styling whims.

He glanced over at the timepiece on the wall and frowned at the thought of going to work. Another day at the bank was just...another day at the bank. The same types of customers would be dealt with and the same types of forms would be filled out, heedless of the brilliant morning sunlight spilling through the kitchen window and onto the floor a few feet away. He'd much rather spend the day tucked off in some secluded corner of the house, curled up by a window with a good book and a few chocolates.

Even more than that, though, he wished he could go upstairs, shed his business garb, and crawl back into bed. With that thought came the promise of warm, inviting arms just waiting for him to change his mind and sleep the rest of the morning away. His cheeks reddened faintly at the thought of what else was waiting for him and he resolutely turned his attention back to the paper...

...only to be interrupted a moment later by a soft thump and a muffled curse coming from the hallway. He blinked in surprise and looked up in time to see Kris stagger into the kitchen, rubbing the top of his head with an expression of tired annoyance. "Damn ceiling above the step caught me again," he explained, vague accent more noticeable when he was half asleep.

It might have been the continuous stream of muttering that kept Stanwick's eyes on him as he crossed the kitchen to make himself something to drink. More likely, though, it was the fact that he'd thrown on boxers before coming down from their room...and nothing else. A few minutes later, cup of unsweetened borovan in hand, the drowsy man finally realized he was being watched.

"See something you like, no?" he teased with a tired smirk, amused blue eyes meeting embarrassed gray. He was propped up against the wall, tanned skin and dark hair in stark contrast with the flat white paint. Stanwick couldn't bring himself to look away. Kris in clothing was appealing enough. Kris almost naked was damned near irresistible, a fact he knew quite well.

Reasonably conscious after knocking back a few mouthfuls of borovan, the assassin moved away from the wall and towards the table in the center of the small kitchen. Muzzy as he'd been, he was now in a position to appreciate the attention he was getting. His partner's blush only deepened as he neared, moving closer until their faces were only inches apart. "Good morning, love," he murmured, one hand coming up to cup the back of his lover's neck as he leaned in for a slow, languid kiss.

Stanwick sighed into the caress and allowed his own hands to move until they were resting against Kris's dark-furred chest. He ran them up along the well-defined muscles as the kiss continued, delighting in the feel and texture of warmed skin and thick hair.

Letting the kiss linger as long as it would, the dark-haired man eventually pulled back and smiled contentedly. "You taste like sugar," he purred before dipping his head for another thorough taste. It was nice not having to reach up to access his lover's mouth for once. Such were the disadvantages of being short.

"When do I not?" Stanwick asked with a breathless little laugh, hands sliding up to grip Kris's shoulders.


End file.
